


Youth

by Elliott_Fletcher



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drabbles, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliott_Fletcher/pseuds/Elliott_Fletcher
Summary: (He can never bring them back, those years lost to art and ice.)





	1. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (He can never bring them back, those years lost to art and ice).

**Dust**

 

Viktor wipes it with his hands from the glossy surfaces and onto his jeans,

Shakes it from the wrinkles in velvet costumes only for it to ground in the air.

It tickles is nose when he inhales deep the air of his youth 

(He can never bring them back, those years lost to art and ice).

 

He unfolds cardboard flaps and smoothes crippled strands that lead to gold;

It is crystal beneath his fingertips, clear and crisp, and not muddled like the dust that cling to it.

He brings the medal to his lips, and it tastes of the blood he spilt to earn such a prize.

He cannot bear to keep the press, and his hands fall away from the yen of his face.

 

Over his shoulder he looks on: a shelf, two shelves.

Their wood is clean, like water under his palms as they wander across the surface.

Hung from nails on royal blue strands are the medals Yuuri adorns in his memories,

And trophies sit on the lowest shelf, shining, gleaming against the tears in his eyes.

 

At the peak of the shelf sits a frame now blurry to him,

But behind his eyes he has memorized the curve of soft jaw and smile.

He sees most clearly the press of Yuuri's lips to medal,

And then the overcome press of his own to Yuuri's temple.

 

(There is no dust on this picture).

 


	2. Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you find his eyes in a crowd?

**Search**

 

Can you find his eyes in a crowd?

Are they warmer than the rest?

Is that how you know?

Are they so hot they burn wherever they fall,

Across your neck or cheek or spine?

 

Could you find his smile in the sea?

Could you define it by the line that brought upon it? 

\- Would you know if it was true?

Would you know his teeth from his lips and tongue,

And his apple cheeks from his chin?

 

Could you find his fingers from his hand?

Could you tell by tactile - they were his?

Would you know how to warm them,

Or could you only aid the frost running up his nails?

 

Could you search for him? 

And find him?

And be the person he _wants_ to run to if you do?

 

(Viktor nods, 'Yes').


	3. North Star Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is going to be a journey.

It is going to be a journey:

From the booking to the customs to the flight.

It is going to eat away at his days while he sits, muscles tightening,

And Yakov tells him it is these hours that he wastes,

These quiet hours that will cost him his victory.

 

The chair is comfortable, wraps around him with an arm rest to lean against,

And he watches the video within an inch of his life 

Until he knows the steps, the glide of the arms, and his body knows them, too -

 - But, still, there is something novel about this music he can see with his eyes.

 

When he has memorized the rise and fall of Yuuri's chest

as he spins, or glides, or dances, (steady), he finally tears his eyes away.

His screen falls black, and the air around him closes in,

Shining the same shade as emptiness.

 

He slides the visor down the window, speckling his eyes.

Stars fill his gaze and he counts them,

And it's the brightest star that tells him it isn't wrong,

Tells him _he's_ not wrong for wanting this the most of all.


	4. Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (We are not the same).

**Differences**

 

You cannot measure our differences with a shirt size;

Where he's medium, I'm small; where he's dark, I'm light.

 

You can't put an image on our faces when you're blind;

We're the curves and edges there for you to find.

 

You crack the gaps in the skin between your bones,

And you say, 'Ready,' in a language I've never known.

 

Our hands on our faces differ;

I'm sharp, you're smooth, soft, and flubber.

 

The warmth that you hide in your veins and your eyes

Is a blood that blends diff-er-ent than mine.

 

(We are not the same).

 

But perhaps in your heart you hold the same freedom

When met with the ice and two blades to glide on;

 

Perhaps in your head you hold the same weakness,

And perhaps in your soul the strength to overcome it;

 

Perhaps we are of the same branch or limb

And built of the same strands within;

 

Perhaps when all is said and done,

We will be one, and we will have won.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave one-word prompts in the comments if you'd like to see more!


End file.
